


for king and country (or something)

by yallaintright



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yallaintright/pseuds/yallaintright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Grantaire makes terrible life choices.</p><p>Case in point: he's just woken up completely naked and, unless he's very much mistaken, in bed with the youngest United States president in history.</p><p>In Grantaire's defense, Enjolras is really hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for king and country (or something)

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [Elle.](http://dameferre.tumblr.com/)

Sometimes, Grantaire makes terrible life choices.

Case in point: he's just woken up completely naked and, unless he's very much mistaken, in bed with the youngest United States president in history.

In Grantaire's defense, Enjolras is really hot.

Well, really hot and really naked.

To make things even more complicated for Grantaire, Enjolras also happens to be asleep and wrapped so tightly around him that Grantaire vaguely wonders if the American people would be stupid enough to elect a wereoctopus as president. Then he remembers the American people were stupid enough to vote for Bush twice so, really, he probably shouldn't hold his breath on them having anything resembling common sense.

Then, he remembers he _fucked_ the extremely attractive wereoctopus that also happens to be president of the United States of America so it's not like he can judge anyone--and Grantaire fucking hates not being able to judge people.

Which is probably why he starts trying to slowly extricate himself from underneath Enjolras' clinging limbs. Enjolras arm, tight around Grantaire's chest, is slowly placed on the pillow. Enjolras' legs, tangled with Grantaire's, are carefully moved to the mattress.

Sliding out from the bed is easy after that. Grantaire picks up his discarded clothes from the floor, cataloguing with delight all the delicious bruises Enjolras left on his body. Who could've known President Enjolras would be a biter?

It'd certainly make for a scandalous headline, though he sincerely doubts that's what the newspaper editors had in mind when they sent him to the White House Correspondents Dinner with a barked order to make himself useful. (Judging by how Enjolras had outright _purred_ when Grantaire finally slid inside him, he'd definitely been useful to someone--although, again, probably not in the way his bosses would've wanted him to be).

Whatever. Sometimes you have to do things for the greater good, and if that means Grantaire has to fuck President Enjolras' brains out once a year for world peace or whatever the fuck it is beauty queens are always going on about on the pageant shows Cosette makes him watch, then he'll just lie back and think of freedom.

(That's a boldfaced lie--Grantaire will lie back and think of nothing but his cock inside Enjolras but, really, Enjolras is still naked on the bed, and Grantaire doesn't have it in him to pay attention to the finer details at this point.)

Which would be all well and good if Enjolras was awake and Grantaire could fuck him for country and king or whatever it is he's been doing at every Correspondents' Dinner since Enjolras was elected, but he's fast asleep and Grantaire refuses to do the awkward morning-after dance until he has at least two cups of coffee in him, and hunting for coffee in the White House just strikes him as slightly suicidal and, as much as it may surprise the people who've met him, Grantaire does have at least a modicum of self-preservation.

He makes it two steps out of the room, awkwardly hopping on the balls of his feet as he tries to step back into his pants, before Secret Agent Courfeyrac points a loaded gun at his head.

"I'm pointing a loaded gun at your head," he remarks, in a cheerful voice that very clearly says he's a morning person. Grantaire doesn't even try to pretend not to hate him for it.

"Congratulations. Would you like a cookie?" Grantaire asks, partially because he doesn't have that much self-preservation, and partially because he's played this game with Courfeyrac for three years now.

Then Courfeyrac does something he's never done before--he shrugs, mutters 'have it your way, then', and pulls the trigger.

Grantaire's face is doused with ice cold water.

"What the fuck?" he sputters indignantly.

"You're supposed to throw water at people when they're being idiots," Courfeyrac says, very seriously.

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. "Is that how you defend the president? With a water gun?"

"No, I defend the president with a Sig Sauer P229. Water guns are how I defend _you_ from your own stupidity," Courfeyrac snaps, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Get back in there."

"But--"

"I've been trained to kill since birth," Courfeyrac says, in the same casual tone he'd say 'pass the salt, will you?'. "How wet do you think I could get you before you leave?"

Grantaire gulps. "Very wet."

"Very wet," Courfeyrac agrees. "How wet do you think I'm going to get you?"

"Very wet?"

Courfeyrac sighs and reaches out to pat Grantaire's cheek in a gesture that's almost comforting. "No," he says with a firm shake of his head. "I'm not going to get you very wet. What I'm going to do is point my gun at your crotch and pull the trigger. Everyone that you walk past will think you peed yourself. Do you really want to put yourself through that?"

Grantaire gives it some serious consideration. "You're evil," he says, a little bit of reverence seeping into his voice.

Courfeyrac smiles widely. "And don't you forget it."

Grantaire sighs like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and goes back to Enjolras' room--where Enjolras is apparently very much awake and sitting up, looking very sleepy but also like he's bracing himself for a fight.

"Morning," Grantaire says, trying to sound casual.

"Your face is wet," Enjolras replies with a frown that's equal parts adorable and confused. Grantaire wants both to kick himself and to kiss Enjolras. Preferably at the same time.

"Courfeyrac is evil," Grantaire says, the awe he's feeling probably audible in his voice. "You should keep him."

"I intend to." Enjolras cards his fingers through his hair. The gesture is probably supposed to tame it back into place, but he has such a spectacular case of bedhead that it only makes it worse. Grantaire is slightly charmed and utterly fucked.

"Do you--do you want anything?" he stammers. "I mean--"

"Why did you try to leave?" Enjolras eyes are wide when he asks, and his expression is far more vulnerable than Grantaire ever remembers seeing it.

"Last night was a mistake."

"You said that last year," Enjolras says with an almost amused quirk of his lips. "And the year before."

"Those were also mistakes."

"I see," Enjolras says and his face goes completely blank. For the first time since he's known Enjolras, Grantaire notices how tired he looks even after a good night's rest, how the dark circles under his eyes grow larger every year.

"Why--why do you ask?" Grantaire can't help but ask, despite his better judgement. "I mean, I'm just saving us both the embarrassment of an awkward morning after, so really--"

Courfeyrac interrupts him, sticking his head into the room. "It's because he likes you," he says helpfully. "And you like him too, so stop being oblivious dicks and finally get your shit together this year, because I’ve got a hundred bucks hiding on this."

Than he closes the door behind him again, and Grantaire has no idea what to say.

When he turns to stare at Enjolras again, the tips of the blond's ears have gone delightfully pink. Grantaire kind of wants to kiss them.

"Well, that was Courfeyrac," Grantaire says, eyes skimming across the room, as he tries very hard not to look at Enjolras.

"Indeed," Enjolras agrees. He shrugs his shoulder and pats the mattress, beckoning for Grantaire to sit down beside him.

"Is that--"

"Sit down." Enjolras orders.

Grantaire doesn't even try to disobey him. "Enjolras, what do you--"

"I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to give me an honest answer. Is that understood?" His voice is polite and deadly calm, the sort of voice Grantaire has come to recognize as President Enjolras’ voice.

(Enjolras' voice, on the other hand, is a lot less polite, and a lot more grumpy.)

(Grantaire is ridiculously charmed by it.)

The fact that he's using his presidential voice now means that either Grantaire has done something to displease him, or Enjolras' aware of just how that voice goes straight to Grantaire's dick, and has no qualms about using it.

Somehow, Grantaire is willing to bet it's the latter.

He nods in reply to Enjolras and the blond gives his knee a gentle squeeze. "Are you leaving because you want to leave or because you think you have to leave?"

"Well, see, that'd depend on--"

"Grantaire," Enjolras snaps.

 _Right_. "Because I have to leave?"

Enjolras rolls his eyes so hard Grantaire almost starts worrying about them falling off his head.

"Get back on the bed," Enjolras hisses through clenched teeth.

"But--"

Enjolras rolls his eyes again, his fingers wrapping tightly around Grantaire's wrist, and before Grantaire knows what's happening, he's being pulled down on the bed and landing on top of Enjolras. 

"What are you doing?" he sputters, rolling over so he’s lying on the mattress rather than on Enjolras.

Before replying, Enjolras tosses both an arm and a leg over Grantaire, keeping him in place. Then he yawns, hides his face in the crook of Grantaire's neck, and says, "I have the Secret Service at my beck and call. Do you think that if I wanted you to leave I couldn't make you leave?"

 _Oh_ , Grantaire thinks.

"Oh," Grantaire says.

"You are an idiot," Enjolras says with feeling.

"But--"

"Go the fuck to sleep, Grantaire."

Just this once, Grantaire does as he's told, fingers lacing with Enjolras' as he drifts off to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://arcoiriseglitter.tumblr.com/)


End file.
